I thought I met the girl I was going to marry in college. We met during my junior year, her senior year (although she stayed an extra semester). From the beginning our relationship was strong both romantically and emotionally. For 2 years everything went very well. After she finished school, she got a nice job in Manhattan. Nothing major for a while, but all of sudden there were hints things were not right. I figured it was just a hiccup we would work through. We celebrated our 2-year anniversary in April and the sparks were again visible. Then all of sudden, everything sort of plummeted! I had graduated at this point and was planning on looking for a job near where she lived and we would get an apartment together. She however was reluctant and on Memorial Day, we were at a her family party and things were not right. We went for a drive. She broke up with me. The worst part, I was absolutely miserable and had no escape. She drove. I was drinking and she couldn’t take me back to my house on Long Island. I was completely stuck. Lost and wanted to blow up. The absolute worst break up and the worst way and time for anybody to do it. HORRIBLE!

When I was a senior in high school I was really excited about prom and the date prospects. I had a date but only weeks before the prom him and his girlfriend had gotten back together and naturally wanted to go together as they were both seniors as well. Last minute I had a friend set me up so I didn’t have to go alone. My date couldn’t have been any less interested which was rough because a girl takes so much time preparing for prom. To prove how uninterested in me he was he refused to dance or talk and at our friends after party he ended up making out in the corner with a friend of mine. The only thing that taught me was to never go on a blind date again.

One time in college, I was walking around my dorm’s recreation center looking for a friend to go get some ice cream with. I eventually ended up running into an acquaintance I knew had a thing for me. When I told him I was looking for a buddy to go get some dessert with, he offered right away to drive me to the Dairy Queen a couple miles away. In my head, I knew this was a bad idea, but I decided to go along with it anyway. After making me wait an hour so he could finish his game of pool, he found me to tell me he was ready for our “date.” I cringed at that word. Turns out, he was really waiting for one of his friends to take us to a party I never agreed to go to. Luckily, we never made it to the party. I was able to convince my “friend” that I really just wanted some ice cream and to head back to the dorm. This guy was not understanding me and drove me to the nearest Rite Aid so I could get HIM some strawberry ice cream. I was not happy, but I agreed since he was my ride back to school. To make a long story short, I paid for the ice cream, got dragged to the beach, heard his stories of how he got arrested, he fell asleep on me, he tried to get me to “check out the new seats in the back of his car”, was sang horribly to, and then I was asked to go out on a second date the following Saturday. I quickly got out of the car and ran away. I should have just called it a night and skipped the ice cream.

I was in a house party in Seattle, and a bunch of us were out drinking on the front lawn. I spotted a pretty girl with curly blond hair who was wearing a pair of mirrored aviators. I walked up and complimented her on the glasses. She showed no interest but I pressed on. “What’s your name?” I asked her. “Chlamydia,” she replied. Several people laughed, but I didn’t know enough to realize this was a harsh rejection, so I tried to keep going. “That’s a beautiful name,” I said like a loser, trying to play along. She walked away.